


Jeu de Pouvoir - Vol. 2

by Laywithmeart



Category: The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: F/M, power-play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laywithmeart/pseuds/Laywithmeart
Summary: "I need you to use me," She whispers so quietly against the skin of his neck, the sound almost didn't reach his ears.





	Jeu de Pouvoir - Vol. 2

**Author's Note:**

> The Hanella version of the smutty Bodyguard fic. HEADS UP: this is still pure filth, just like the original. 
> 
> This couple rightfully belongs to the Hanella Queen @mldrgrl

It's only natural. Nothing many more women haven't fantasized about before her, or she herself for that matter, but the intensity of it is definitely a first. Picturing the way his body moves as he undresses, as he touches her, or touches himself, certainly isn't helping her keep up the professional demeanor she needs to hold at the moment. While her colleagues keep droning on about budget cuts, her mind keeps drifting to Hank, focusses on his lips and she can't help but bite her own and shift a little in her seat. Of course, Burns notices the move. She can tell by the slight crease that forms between his brows that he knows something has her distracted. Why did he have to request a transfer to her team? To the Met in the first place? His infatuation with her is really starting to twist into some dark kind of obsession; always following her around, watching her every move.

"Are you alright, Stella?" His question brazenly interrupts the current discussion. She knows the query is sincere, but his attention is really unfortunate.

"Yes," she faulters slightly. She's altogether too horny and aware of her fellow officers's presence. "It's been a long day, that's all."

She rushes home after the meeting, cursing the speedlimit and heavily-drunk pedestrians. The door clicks shut behind her and it strikes her last nerves, having already been on edge with annoyance and heat the entire day. She's in full sinner mode now and she needs him to do this.

"Sherlock?" He calls from the kitchen.

Shrugging of her coat along the way, not bothering with the rack, she finally gets to see those backmuscles move under his shirt as he stirs thick tomato sauce. Having sensed her presence, he turns unhurriedly and beams that adorable smile at her.

She's in a rush due to the scorning heat in her panties, but her nervousness is holding her back a bit. She's not accustomed to playing coy when it comes to these things. Walking over to him, she stares intently into his eyes as if hoping he could somehow read her mind at this moment. _Please quess what I want right now, just take me._ She grazes her lips over his, drops a small kiss on his jaw, then nuzzles his neck the way he usually does to her. It makes him smile even wider.

"How was your day?" he asks as she straightens back up and rests her arms on his shoulders.

She hums but doesn't respond further, not wanting to go get into that at the moment. Instead, she decides to show him what she is interested in right now, hinting her way through a conversation. A lick at his lips has him chuckling a little, his grin still in place but a little uncertain. She takes his hands in hers and places them on her hips, dragging them down slowly to where she's very squizable. Luckily, he gets the queue, squizes and seeks her lips. He's too gentle, however, it makes her grunt a little. She really has no patience left after today.

"What's wrong?" He asks, his voice soft and his brows furrowed.

"I'm in a certain... mood," The type of mood that brings about certain behaviors she would normally never let herself partake in. It's not that she doesn't trust him, they have done similar things to this. He had her blindfolded a couple of times, she's even been tied up once or twice during those, but this...

"A libidinous mood?" He waggles his eyebrows.

She wants to say it, "A slutty mood, a violently slutty one." but it's just too brutally candid to say aloud for her. Not that she shies away from being frank, ever, nor do such words taste foreign on her tongue. Instead, they taste sour, too close to what she's encountered in her line of work. What she's longing for, this subservient humiliation fantasy, is the daily harsh reality for so many victims she's spoken to. It makes her feel guilty, as if she's pitiless towards them, even if it's an understandable type of lust. She'll also have to give up all control, which is what she wants but nevertheless still difficult.

"Stella?"

She reminds herself of a couple months ago when he requested a similar type of power-play to summen her courage back up. Them sixtynine-ing it on the bathroom floor, his face between her asscheeks, practically suffocating while chained in her handcuffs, and her mouth mimicking his movements on the length of him.

"I need you to use me," She whispers so quietly against the skin of his neck, the sound almost didn't reach his ears.

"What?"

" _Use_ me," she repeats, now looking him in the eye.

"Use you for what?"

"No- " She takes a deep breath, " _As_ what. As... _a certain kind of woman_. I need you to treat me like that tonight."

Realization dawns incredibly slow on his face.

"Allright, Sherlock." He says after a long pause, obviously still taken aback a little but a comforting small smile returning. "If that is what my wife needs."

"I do." Of course, he'll never take this too far, she can rely on him.

________________________________________________________________

  
She's done this sort of thing for him many times, last month even, except then the implication of _that kind of man_ wasn't indicated. He didn't have to spell it out like she just had to, to make his need clear. He didn't have to explain that he'd had a filthy row with Karen concerning Becca, that publisher after publisher told him his latest work was less interesting than dogshit. That he needed her like that to forget, to drown out his anger, his shame. She practically rode his face at his vague non-verbal request, french-kissed his demons away, and it worked perfectly to diminish his raging braincells that night. Stella's been under a lot of pressure lately. Three of her colleages dying in the line of fire two weeks ago, her being held responsible for that fuck-up, but then everythings seems to be blamed on her since the Spector case. And to top it all off, in walks this enamored idiot, shows up all the way from Belfast to work on her last nerves. So, he understands why she's asking for this. Considering her unhealthy need for control, he gets why this is a way to break that and in turn a search for some peace of mind. But he also knows that for women, this type of play is different, way more intense.

When he's lead her upstairs, he slides his hands back to her waist, not wanting to dive right into this role as she had in case it does spook her, cause her to rebuild the walls her nature insists on. "I know you don't want me to ask this, but you know we can stop any time right?"

"Yes."

"Because if this suddenly does make you uncom-"

"Please, Hank." She whispers, the tone vulnerable. She's never begged him, no matter how many times he drove her to the edge to only back down, and he doubts she ever did beg anyone.

"Alright," He's still for a moment.

"Strip for me."

And she does as she's told right away without hesitation, let's each piece of clothing fall to the floor until she stands in front of him completely nude. The swell of her breasts, her hips, are so tantalizing to him he can't help himself. Even after these past couple of years, she still has this effect on him.

"You're fucking stunning." He says as he steps closer and lets his fingertips carress her arms.

"Talk dirty to me." She speaks against his lips.

It thrills him that she finally trusts him enough to let go like this, and he's good at conversation is general so dirty talk will be a blast. He lets his hand travel down, feeling the soft skin of her belly, the strip of short and dark curls between her legs, and further down until he encounters wetness.

"Is this for me?"

She gasps at the contact, "Yes,"

"So generous." Every conceivable God knows, he's not just talking about the gesture. She's practically dripping in his hand.

She cups him over his pants, rubs the heel of her hand along him as if he could possibly get any harder than this; he's fucking rock. If he had any thought left about needing to start this up slowly, it's gone with the wind now.

"Is that what you want?" When she nods shyly, perfectly swept away in this fantasy, he gives his next 'order'.

"Kneel down."

He undoes his belt as she sits below him, slides down the zipper of his pants and brings a full seven inches out in the open. She keenly watches on, wetting her lips. He carefully takes a handful of her hair and pulls her face towards his bobbing erection until he can feel the heat of her breath on his skin.

She kisses the tip, drags her lips over his hardened veins, then proceeds to properly use her mouth on him. He can't help but moan and grunt as her warm tongue repeatedly slides over all the sensitive parts of his length. The look in her eyes as she keeps staring at him, normally so intensely powerful and confident, is now almost bambi-like. He refrains from uttering all the hardcore-porn phrases he wants to say right now, and sticks to borderline pornographic, even though she's asking for more. She's put herself in a weak enough position already, near complete submissiveness, licking his ballsack with his precum smeared all over her chin.

"Fuck my mouth, Hank." She breathes.

He uses both of his hands to steady her, gives her what he's got. The way she humms around him has him seeing stars. His power-hungry Stella, otherwise so turned on by having him completely under her control, now needy to be dominated and drooling all around his cock.

For a moment, a pang of guilt shoots through him. Is he enjoying this too much? Will this back-fire? He's not the type of man to treat a woman like this anymore, she's tought him better than to undermine a woman like this, even if you don't love them, but then he feels her nails dig into his buttocks, urging him deeper.

No woman has ever wanted him like this with a deeper meaning behind it the way Stella does, not even Karen. He once though he and Karen could work through anything, but there was too much hurt between them and their efforts to salvage their marriage cost him his sanity. It's Stella who set him straight, who can take him on, intoxicate him in whatever way they are together like a mirical drug. She's might be the most imposible woman on planet earth to have an easy-going relationship with, but she sure does taste of salvation. He loves her, and he sympathizes with her need to forget her responsabilities right now, the agony she's gone through, the mess she's in. He's actually glad she is finally showing it, not keeping it to herself and biting through it. This means they're connecting more and more. So, of course, he's not going to refuse her. He plays his part in this setting, takes her and has his way with her so she'll be content and hopefully very relaxed by the end of tonight.

________________________________________________________________

  
She curves her tongue, spells his initials on his flesh as he works her throat. His shallow breaths are so ragged, it makes her want to engulf every inch of him. If only she could suck him off harder when he's in this deep.

He pulls out a little, clenching, and she gasps open mouthed, waiting for him to enter and tickle her tonsils again. He doesn't, however. Instead, he moves to take off his shirt and caresses her hair.

It doesn't take him long to have her bend over the bed. His trousers still around his ankles but her arms attentively placed to cradle her head. He lifts her butt up so it sticks out in the air, pushes on her lower back so she cants her hips. Her breathy sighs sound quite delicate for this kind of act to her own ears, but they seem to be encouragement enough for he crashes into her with a fierce passion. He pumps and pumps, riding her at a furious pace and she can feel herself begin to tremble and clench.

Slowly, he inches a finger into the crack of her ass while his other hand seeks out the nape of her neck and pushes her head down. He presses his hips alarmingly close and penetrates her so deeply, he touches her core. She doesn't think he can possibly get any closer, but when he bends over her, his shoulders framing hers, she feels his warmth everywhere; his breath on her neck, his chest gliding smoothly over her back because they're both so sweaty. And then he slingshots her over the edge, grinding broad cirkels against her.

“Hank!” she screams, followed by a hoarse and throaty moan.

He doesn't stop, even when she can feel his cock throbbing inside her. Her slick and still clenching cunt is obviously whirling him into a full on frenzy. He straightens back up a little, pulling her with him which slightly changes the angle but definitely for the better. It's her g-spot that he's ramming along now. His hand snakes down to work her swollen clit, and she needs just one more thing to make it a second time so she pulls on her nipples. He clutches onto her more, his grip tightening as she moans and bucks. Oh, she's close. So close to oblivion. And then she gushes, squirts around him, hard. He buries his face in her hair and neck, inhales her heady scent as she lets out another throttled cry. Following behind her quickly, he groans out his own climax.

She expects the both of them to collapse onto the bed right away, but he holds her tight to his chest a moment longer, both catching their breath. As he pulls out, he finally moves to step out of his trousers. She takes to the soft matress, and he kneels in front of her.

"What a mess you've made, Sherlock." He smiles.

She returns his smile timidly, he's absolutely covered in her. Rolling onto her stomach, she sticks out her tongue and licks long strokes. She's salty cream, bitter butterscotch, but sweet.

She humms, "Better now?"

"No. I like having you all over me." He grins.

He lays down next to her and she hugs her arms around him. Their foreheads rest against one another and he trails his lips along hers, kisses them sweetly. He's the only one who can make her feel this way. The only one who can see through her, alter those controlling reins, and recognize how the stress of the job masks her immense inner warmth. Luckily, he has the ability to bring it right to the forefront again.


End file.
